


How Does One Feel

by ThinkoftheWindandSun



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThinkoftheWindandSun/pseuds/ThinkoftheWindandSun
Summary: When Ambulon first defected to the Autobots, he knew that he would have a hard time adjusting. He just hadn't thought "adjusting" would have anything to do with having a romantic relationship, and the feelings that came along with it.Luckily, First Aid is there to remind him that there's a cure for feelings. And that he's already found it.
Relationships: Ambulon / Rodimus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	How Does One Feel

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the transformers franchise, or any of its many iterations.

Approaching Ratchet with his problem wasn’t an option. Ratchet was kind enough to take him and First Aid in after the debacle on Delphi. He even let them work as the medics they were. But Ambulon was well aware that the grumpy medic would have no patience for his latest set of issues.

Which meant approaching First Aid. Infinitely preferable. Both due to their friendship and the fact that First Aid was less likely to do impromptu physical exams of his spark chamber.

Also, First Aid was more likely to have a solution.

So, that in mind, Ambulon waited until First Aid was on shift in the med-bay before entering. Even then he kept a wary eye out for any signs of Ratchet. Or the medical drones. Who were more likely to flock to him in concern than help.

First Aid looked up when he approached.

“I’m having—” Ambulon grimaced “There’s a problem with my emotional subroutines.”

“A problem? Your last examination was fine,” said First Aid.

But he was already reaching up to probe at the fine seam along Ambulon’s helm. He put up with the treatment, if only because First Aid was a good doctor. And also, he did have a bit of a helmache.

“Nothing feels wrong here… maybe you should let me do a fresh scan of your neural interface,” said First Aid.

“Alright,” said Ambulon.

He let First Aid lead him to the nearest medical slab. Where he sat down and sat very, very still. The Lost Light had much better-quality machines than any Ambulon had used before. Still, it was best not to move too much with a neural scan.

Too many chances that things might go wrong. Either with the scan results, or with the neural transmitters inside your helm. He had seen the results of that before, and had no intention of experiencing it himself.

Not that First Aid wasn’t extremely precise with the equipment anyway. There was a reason he was Whirl’s on-call physician.

The scan proceeded with no complications. First Aid picked up a tablet from a passing medical drone and began to poke at the screen. His visor scrunched up slightly with concentration.

“Everything checks out here. Your emotional subroutines are in perfect working order,” said First Aid.

“That’s the problem,” said Ambulon.

First Aid paused. His visor flickered. He put down the tablet. Then, he reached out and cradled Ambulon’s servo gently in his own. Which. Okay, that was new.

“Ambulon, you do know it’s perfectly normal—perfectly acceptable—to have emotions,” said First Aid.

“No, it’s not,” said Ambulon.

It wasn’t fine. It wasn’t normal. And it certainly wasn’t acceptable, or respectable, or any other “able” word First Aid wanted to throw at him.

He waved his free servo through the air as he explained, “I’ve been having these, these feelings. They’re inconvenient. And mechs can see them.”

“They can see your feelings,” said First Aid.

“It’s terrible. My face plating gets hot and, and, and I even smiled at Ultra Magnus! At Ultra Magnus!” Ambulon exclaimed.

Slowly, First Aid reached up and caught his other servos. He pulled it down so that he was now cradling both of Ambulon’s servos. His expression was unchanged as ever. A consequence of having a visor and faceplate. But the softened light of said visor suggested a gentle smile.

Ambulon leaned back warily.

“You know what, you’re right, that is a problem,” said First Aid.

“Oh no,” said Ambulon.

“I have a medical solution. It’s highly experimental, of course. I haven’t tested it on any patients yet, but it should help,” said First Aid.

Ambulon pressed his lips together and waited.

With a deadly seriousness, First Aid said, “You’re going to leave this room, go find Rodimus, and you’re going to tell him you’re having feelings. Now, this is going to feel like a bad thing at first. He might even make some faces. But if you watch him closely, I think you might find that he has feelings too. They’re highly contagious.

“And then, you’re going to take him on another date. Because your last one was a beautiful disaster,” said First Aid.

It kind of was, wasn’t it? Ambulon thought ruefully. The results had been outstanding, but the experience itself was a little bizarre. Better, for Rodimus’ company. But still uniquely discomforting.

He still wanted another date.

Which meant that First Aid actually had a point. Unfortunately.

“You’re being snarky again,” said Ambulon, scowling.

“It’s a gift,” said First Aid loftily.

And it was, even if Ambulon wished he’d actually go ahead and temporarily disable the lines of code necessary for his emotional subroutines anyway. It was embarrassing. Also, he was pretty sure that Magnus had almost smiled back at him the last time which was—

It was a lot better to not think of that.

So, he let First Aid prod at him. Let him give him a pep-talk that did more to raise his nerves than soothe them. And then let him shoo him out the door like some errant sparkling.

Then he let his fans run high for a minute. Let his processor run over the fact that, yes, he had just agreed to go talk about his feelings. And very briefly debated jumping into the Rodpod and fleeing for unknown stars.

Somehow, he found himself standing outside of Rodimus’ office anyway.

He knocked briskly, then entered. Not bother with the usual curtesy offered to superior officers, because Rodimus was too much like Pharma in that regard. If he gave him an inch, he would take a mile, laughing and smiling the whole way. Less snarky jabs at Ambulon’s history, thankfully.

Rodimus was sat behind his desk carving something, looking bored out of his helm. He startled upright when the door whooshed open. Then jumped to his pedes when he saw that it was Ambulon who had walked in.

With hardly a moment taken to step around the desk, Rodimus sauntered up to him and peppered gentle kisses onto his nasal ridge and forehelm. Pulling back, he began tapping a familiar pattern onto Ambulon’s arm plating. Right about where the pipes were on his own.

“First Aid thinks we need to have another date,” said Ambulon.

Rodimus stared at him, then grinned.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“He says it’s a necessary medical procedure,” said Ambulon.

“A step in your recovery,” said Rodimus, grinning wider. “Why Ambulon, I didn’t know I was your medicine.”

Ambulon scowled at him. But he could feel his face plating heating again. And another blasted smile curling up his lips. Making him look, look happy and besotted. Soft. He cursed First Aid for getting him into this situation.

Then he let Rodimus throw an arm around his shoulders and drag him down the hall towards Swerve’s. Babbling about plans for their next date. Smiling all the way, and not even bothering to hide it when they passed by a few other crew members.  
Maybe his emotional subroutines weren’t too unfortunate. If it meant he got to see Rodimus beam like that. His spoiler flapping. Servos waving about in the air as he framed out his next grand plan.

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a larger universe, where Ambulon survived the, er, Lengthways situation, and kind of stumbled into a relationship with Rodimus.  
> Also, unmentioned because it's largely irrelevant in the fic, but both of them have their blue and purple paint jobs.


End file.
